


How I See You

by anyothergirl415



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Angst, M/M, Minor Violence, Prostitution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-05
Updated: 2011-12-04
Packaged: 2017-10-27 00:22:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/289522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anyothergirl415/pseuds/anyothergirl415
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This power was something Sam always had, something he’d honed over the years. It wasn’t even that bad, being able to see people’s future with a simple touch, but it certainly didn’t make relationships very easy. So paying for sex just to feel that connection with someone? It was kind of like Sam’s right. If only someone had warned him just how things would change after hooking up with Dean.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_Like a blur it moved, one dark shadow shifting too fast, just quick enough he couldn’t center his focus. A low growl. A dank smell. A harsh breath._

 _“Happy fuckin’ birthday.” That voice, always the same, deep and hoarse from alcohol maybe, cigarettes most likely. “Here’s hopin’ twenty four doesn’t kick my ass like twenty three did.”_

 _Laughter. Familiar enough. Something maybe he should have been able to place. The noise muffled as the people moved away from the window, further into the room. The dark pass of a shadow once more then moonlight, bright and glowing._

 _“You got me, right? Gonna be the best year of your life.” Another voice. He should have known it, he felt like he did, but like a moth bouncing along a light the answer remained just out of reach. “Wait. This- I know this- oh god.”_

 _The crash of wood, a low muffled curse, the shatter of glass. One single flash of bright green eyes. Then the scream, always the scream, haunting and echoing, sharper, piercing. It echoed through the darkness, above the snarls and growls and gnawing of bone and muscle and blood._

In a flash Sam was sitting, panting, his eyes wide as he stared into the darkness of his motel room. Like he hadn’t had this same dream at least a thousand times before, always so new and fresh, playing in a haunting repeat through his mind. It took a full three minutes for his heart to stop racing, for his eyes to stop whipping through the darkness as if that shadowed beast was waiting there for him.

“Fuck,” Sam whispered, then yawned, dropping back onto the bed and rolling to his side. He flicked the table lamp on and grabbed the small black notebook on the nightstand, snagging the pen resting beside it.

Writing the dream was familiar. Maybe he didn’t need to write it all down - this particular book had over two hundred entries of the same dream - but he never knew when a detail would change. One detail, that was all it would take, and Sam would finally have an answer to the biggest mystery of his life.

Or... one of the biggest mysteries.

So he wrote down every detail before the dream drifted away and dropped the book and pen, wearily flicking off the light once more. He tucked under the too thin motel blanket and closed his eyes, hoping the dream wouldn’t come again that night. Sam could use some sleep.

  


The wad of bills tucked in Sam’s pocket was larger than what he was used to. He supposed it was one of the - very few - perks of mastering the skill he had. It wasn’t like Sam had asked for the money but he most certainly wouldn’t say no to anything offered to him. Being nineteen years old didn’t really give him a lot of options when it came to turning down compensations for his _good works_.

Whenever Sam was given the opportunity to spend a little extra on himself he tried to take advantage of it. Sometimes it was the only thing to equal out his always questionable sanity. In this particular instance he’d gotten himself a room in a fairly nice hotel and was currently surveying the patrons of the mildly crowded hotel bar.

Sam wasn’t all that big on random hook-ups, but they were sure a hell of a lot easier than relationships. How did you explain to someone you were dating that if you let your control slip you could see right into their futures, find out dirty or dark little details they’d likely never wanted you to know? You didn’t. Not without being smacked or punched or kicked out on your ass. Yeah, Sam had more than a few first hand encounters with that type of reaction.

So, random hook-ups it was. One night stands where the only effort you really had to put into it was the opening lines to seal the deal. If Sam pursued one of the long haired, curvy blondes that had been occasionally eyeing him for the better part of a half hour, he probably wouldn’t even have to work that hard. The problem was, Sam had an itch, and it wasn’t the type that would be soothed by a smooth, busty body beneath him.

Which led to his gaze drifting away from the girls all packed together and over to the much more randomly spaced males. Picking up a guy for a one night stand was harder. Especially when he wasn’t in a gay club or somewhere it was obvious that any male you hit on wasn’t going to freak out at even being approached. The not always so pleasant line up of his past made Sam nervous and twitchy from even considering trying to hit on any of the guys he could see, so the potential for satisfying that itch was dwindling.

Plus, it wasn’t like Sam was really looking for a man to lay dominance on. No, quite the other way around.

There was a man on the far side of the bar that Sam could instantly tell was different. The way he was leaning back, elbows propped up on the mahogany counter top behind him, eyes scanning slow and uninterested amongst the crowd, spoke of confidence. Like the man knew just how hot he was. Which, he really _fucking_ was.

His lips were just the slightest side of swollen - as if he’d been biting them too much - his gaze hooded by long lashes, his golden brown hair spiked like fingers had previously been dragging through it only moments before. Actually, he looked like the kind of guy that’d willingly drop to his knees at a moment’s notice and allow anyone’s fingers to drag through that thick hair, and Sam’s brows rose slowly.

That guy was a hooker.

Enough years on the road, enough years dealing with the darker side of life, made the signs obvious to Sam. He’d grown up with girls who worked the streets just to get by and he knew the rules, the practices. In fact, he’d come damn close to taking that route more than once to make ends meet, but he’d never been able to get over the shameful implications of selling his body in such a way.

Apparently, this guy didn’t have any such reservations. He was offering himself out like a food platter or something and yeah, maybe Sam was beginning to feel a bit like a starved child. How could he not eye the young man greedily? For that matter, how was everyone else in the bar not eyeing him with the same lust-filled eagerness?

Sam pushed off the chair and stood, rubbing his gloved fingers long the denim covering his thighs. There was no reason to be nervous. After all, he could afford this, and once he proved that to the man then he’d get whatever he wanted. Hopefully the guy wouldn’t take one look at his frayed jeans and worn plaid shirt and dismiss him before Sam got to the good part.

“Something I can help you with?” the man asked and Sam started.

He hadn’t even realized just how close he’d gotten, stopping right in front of the hooker and staring because... damn. This guy had the prettiest green eyes and freckles and he looked so, soft and innocent. Sam wet his lips and swallowed thickly. There was something about those eyes he just couldn’t place but he shook it off and forced himself to speak. “Um, hi. Hi, I was wondering if-”

“You couldn’t afford me kid,” the man laughed and turned away, facing the bar and lifting his hand in a wave to get the bartender’s attention.

When the bartender ignored him, Sam shoved a hand into his pocket, pulling out a couple crisp bills and waving them at the man. “Two of whatever he’s drinking.” He gave the bartender a brief smile then turned back to the hooker at his side, a shy smile flickering on his lips as the man considering him with a little more interest. “Maybe you shouldn’t make any assumptions?”

“Maybe not.” The man stepped a little closer, his eyes burning with definite interest, his hip crooking out to expose a strip of creamy skin. The way he dragged those strangely familiar bright green eyes down Sam’s body in a very clear once over brought a flush to Sam’s cheeks and he dropped his head instinctively, shying away from the piercing look. “We’ll take two double whiskeys.”

Sam glanced up in time to watch the bartender walk off and wet his lips. Apparently he was going to be tested in the form of alcohol and fine, Sam could totally hold his liquor. Just like he could hold his own next to this pretty boy hooker. After all, _Sam_ wasn’t the one selling himself. “What’s your name?” He propped his elbows on the bar and considered the strong jaw on the stranger.

“Dean,” the hooker answered and Sam was actually a little relieved the response hadn’t been some clichéd, _whatever you want it to be sugar_. Honest answers in a not so honest world were something to be noted. “And what’s yours?”

“Sam.” He smiled at Dean and shifted just a little closer, just in case his intentions weren’t clear already. When the bartender returned with their drinks he slid a twenty forward and grasped his glass, waiting for Dean to tip his back before following suit. The alcohol burned sliding down his throat but Sam suppressed the shudder of his shoulders, wanting to prove he could handle this test.

“So, Sam...” Dean trailed off with a hum, slowly spinning the glass on the bar top beneath his fingers. “I take it you’re looking for some company for the night?”

All those times Sam had seen friends, more like acquaintances, heading out for the streets at night he’d wondered just how a hook up happened. It couldn’t be like the way you saw in movies, where the guy drove up to the street sidewalk and picked up a girl in sleazy clothes. At least not all the time because he was pretty sure it wasn’t entirely legal. Not that the law ever really mattered to Sam.

This felt weirdly normal though. Like they were just a couple of guys scoping each other out before tumbling into bed for the night. Sam felt like he needed some secret code or something just to make sure they had the same idea in mind. “I am,” he said slowly, staring hard down at his empty glass. “What would, um, something like the night cost me?”

“Depends on what you’re into. Not a lot I won’t do. For the right price.” Dean shrugged and leaned casually against the bar, like this was the most normal thing in the world.

And well, Sam supposed, to Dean it probably was. The man didn’t look all that young, his expression was guarded enough to suggest he’d been around the block more than a few times. But he was drop dead gorgeous, even with that not-so-hidden tough guy exterior. He was maybe a little like a walking contradiction, soft enough to pull you in, hard enough to leave you wanting. “Could we go up to my room and um, discuss... prices and stuff?”

If someone overheard them and caused trouble, Sam wouldn’t get to learn if Dean was that puzzling contradiction beneath his tight faded jeans and dark forest green tee. Sam was pretty sure he would be all soft skin and firm muscles and his mind flashed with the idea of Dean pressing him back on the bed, fucking slow and steady into him. Yeah. They definitely needed some privacy.

Dean considered him with a narrowed gaze for a long minute and Sam tried not to squirm. It felt like Dean was trying to read his mind or something and Sam knew enough about powers like that to not put it past him. You just never knew who could secretly tap into things you didn’t want others to learn.

Finally, Dean nodded and pushed off the bar, sliding his hands easily into his pockets and keeping his shoulders squared off, like he had no problem being proud of who he was. “You’ve got a room here?”

A hint of a smile played across Sam’s lips at the obvious disbelief in Dean’s voice. He shrugged as he led the way from the bar, letting their elbows bump together. “What can I say? I don’t get to spoil myself very often.”

“A room in a nice hotel is spoiling yourself? Fuck man, I’d hit up Red Lobster or something and get the most expensive thing on the menu.” Dean snorted a laugh as he trailed Sam into the elevator, slumping instantly back against the wall now that he didn’t have to present himself in any way to anyone.

Sam laughed, pleased that Dean seemed to be loosening up enough to joke around at least. He could almost pretend that this really was a casual hook up and he wasn’t paying for it. “I went to Olive Garden, had the best pasta dish, endless Cesar salad and garlic bread.”

Something like a scoff fell from Dean and Sam glanced over in time to see the roll of his eyes. “Pasta is _not_ spoiling yourself. You need a big juicy lobster smothered in butter. Or better yet, a steak the size of your head, medium done so it’s still nice and juicy on the inside. Seasoned enough you don’t even have to use sauce. And a big basket of garlic fries.”

Actually, a steak sounded pretty damn good to Sam but he spent more time considering the way Dean’s tongue slid over his lips as he thought of the food then anything else. God, those lips. Sam swallowed thickly and grinned down at the floor. “Yeah well, play your cards right and maybe I’ll treat you to steak and eggs for breakfast.”

In hindsight, it maybe wasn’t the wisest thing to say. Maybe that was a little _too much_ for Dean, who didn’t make any noise in response. An awkward silence settled over them as the elevator came to a stop on Sam’s floor and Sam cleared his throat, leading the way out into the hall. He decided it was probably best to just keep his mouth shut and not say anything else stupid until after they were behind a closed door and his money had been produced.

Then he could say whatever he wanted, he was paying Dean to stick around.

“What is it, Sam?” Dean asked the moment Sam closed the hotel door behind them and Sam turned to him, his brows arched curiously. “You’re fucking hot dude. You can’t possibly expect me to believe you can’t find someone to hook up with for the night. So, that means you must be into some kinky shit and feel like the only way you’ll get it is by paying.”

Sam frowned and slowly crossed the hotel room, tugging off his gloves and laying them on the dresser. “It’s um, not really that kinky. I mean, I don’t want to tie you up or anything.”

“As long as you don’t try and draw blood then I’m fine with whatever.” Dean shrugged and leaned against the wall, watching Sam steadily. “So, spill. Am I dressing up as something? Or are you? You wanna call me Daddy?”

As Dean spoke Sam’s brows rose and he couldn’t help laughing. “Seriously? You uh, dress up often?”

Dean shrugged but there was definitely a smirk on his lips. “Not my place to judge. Look, you don’t know me, but right now in this moment? Think of me as the one person in the entire world you can trust. Anything you want to do, say, want me to do, it’ll stay here in this room with us. Sound fair to you?”

Something about Dean’s words made Sam’s heart flutter and he nodded slowly, sinking down onto the edge of the bed. Of course, Dean couldn’t know just what he wanted, but the man was weirdly right on the nose already. “I want you to fuck me.”

Confusion fluttered across Dean’s face for a moment and he looked away then back, slowly pushing off the wall and crossing to Sam. “Really? That’s... dude. You really don’t have to pay for that. Why not pick up a guy? I’m sure you could easily find one willing to do _exactly_ that.”

Sam sighed and slid his hand up through his hair. He couldn’t explain this completely to Dean, there were far too many details he just couldn’t go into even if Dean would believe him. But he could try, give him something, and he’d start by playing the always present defense card. “Are you saying you’re not interested? Because I really can afford it. I swear.”

Dean laughed and dropped down beside him, knocking their shoulders together. “Fuck no I’m not saying no. Getting paid to fuck a sexy beast like yourself? It’s a rare opportunity. But I mean, there’s gotta be more to it than that, right?”

Rolling his bottom lip under his teeth, Sam considered everything he could ask for, knowing Dean would give him it without a moment’s hesitation. The idea had already been in his mind back when he’d first figured out what Dean was but getting the words out was proving to be more complicated. Mostly because he felt silly about the entire thing. Dean already thought he was a bit of a freak for the hotel thing, then the wanting to be fucked thing, and now this.

Good thing Sam didn’t really have to worry about the impression he left on Dean. “I want... for you to pretend like I’m your lover. That um, like you’re in love with me.” Sam ducked his head so hair would fall in his face, hiding the blush growing on his cheeks. “Pretend like, we haven’t seen each other in a while and you’re just really happy to be back with me and want nothing more than to have me as yours once again.”

Sam had sped up as he spoke, the words tumbling from him as he forced them out and he rubbed at his cheek because it was burning. It was downright embarrassing to fess up to wanting something like that but anyone who knew the real details of his life probably wouldn’t hold it against him. After all, you didn’t spend your entire life shuffled from foster homes to group homes then kicked out on your eighteenth birthday without suffering some psychological damage. Sam’s just happened to be an underlying ache for genuine physical contact.

Dean didn’t say anything and after a few minutes Sam began to panic, his heart lurching unpleasantly, his stomach rolling. Maybe he’d expected some teasing, expected Dean to laugh at him, but he didn’t think it would freak the hooker out enough to have him so quiet. He was probably gearing up to figure out a way out of there, possibly a little concerned that Sam would snap and go all clingy psycho ex-girlfriend on his ass. “Look, forget it. I-”

Anything else he had to say was cut off, or more precisely swallowed up, by Dean’s lips suddenly slanting over his. It wasn’t all that surprising to Sam that Dean knew how to kiss. His lips were so full, naturally swollen, and they moved slow and hard against Sam’s. The touch was meant to mean so much more, Sam could tell, and he was pretty sure he’d never been so thoroughly kissed. As Dean’s tongue swept forward between his lips Sam’s hand lifted, fingers sliding back through silky soft brown hair and curling to hold on. His free hand wrapped over Dean’s shoulders and the room spun slightly as the man slowly lowered him back onto the bed.

It felt like Dean was trying to taste every inch of his mouth, his tongue in constant movement, and Sam lost himself in being so deeply kissed. When Dean’s fingers drifted down his chest and tucked just under the hem of his shirt the remaining air in Sam’s lungs hitched. And at the first touch of calloused fingers on his skin Sam had to pull back from the kiss, sucking in a greedy breath.

“Dean,” he gasped, arching up into the gentle brush of fingers. He blinked his eyes open and found Dean’s green gaze fixed down on him, darker now, softer at the edges like maybe he wasn’t freaked out by Sam’s request. Maybe he even understood, in some ways. “Dean...” he whispered once more, not completely confident he could carry out the semi story line he’d drawn up for them.

“Shh,” Dean murmured and smiled, just the hint of a smirk playing at the edge of his lips, fingers pushing further up along his chest. “Always talking so much. Let me enjoy you for a while.”

Before Sam could marvel at how convincing Dean sounded - like Dean had said the same thing to him a million times - the worn material of his shirt was pushed further up and those full lips were following after. The heat of Dean’s mouth was a little maddening, in the best ways, and Sam moaned and writhed beneath each touch, blinking his gaze up at the ceiling. As Dean tugged him up, pulling his shirt off and tossing it to the side, Sam’s heart flip flopped.

It felt like he was being worshipped by Dean. Every inch he touched along Sam’s chest, the steady slow brush of his lips, was soaking heat straight to his bones and Sam was painfully hard, aching in his jeans. His fingers found their way to Dean’s hair once more, curling and tugging, free hand pulling at his shirt to get the material off.

“Need. Dean, please,” Sam gasped and closed his eyes once more. He had to take a moment to refocus his thoughts before he lost control and saw something he didn’t want to. He’d been training for years to not have visions the moment he touched someone but sometimes, like now when the pleasure was so intense, Sam nearly lost that control. “God, I want you.”

Dean moaned softly, real enough sounding Sam actually believed it, and pushed up long enough to tug his shirt off and send it to join Sam’s. Their eyes met once more and Dean smirked down at Sam, rubbing along his thigh through his jeans. “Really love it when you beg Sammy. Could listen to it for hours.” Dean dropped down and brushed their lips together in a slow kiss. “Maybe I will. I know how you like when I tease you, take my time with you. Want me to spend hours driving you crazy baby?”

Gasping into the kiss, Sam squirmed his hips, trying to get Dean’s hand to move higher up his body. He wasn’t entire sure his desire to feel like a _part_ of something required this much teasing but he wasn’t going to complain about it either. Mainly because Dean’s lips were moving along his chest again, circling around his nipple, and Sam couldn’t begin to form words.

As Dean’s teeth clamped around his nipple and slowly dragged out, the pressure in Sam’s jeans loosened. Sam blew out a shaky breath and let his fingers trail down the long smooth expanse of Dean’s back. The skin was raised, scarred, halfway down and Sam lifted his head to try and see. “What’s this from?” he asked breathlessly, possibly grasping at straws to keep from losing it too quickly.

Dean chuckled roughly and tugged at the hem of Sam’s jeans, lifting his hips off the bed to pull the material down further. “You wouldn’t believe me even if I told you.”

Sam frowned, ready to tell Dean that he likely _would_ believe it considering the shit he’d seen in his own life, but then Dean’s fingers were slipping under Sam’s boxers and the words caught in his throat. Dean’s hands might be calloused from god knows what but they felt surprisingly silky soft as they traced along the sharp curve of Sam’s hipbone, working the cotton and denim down further in slow pulls. “Dean,” he moaned, low in the back of his throat, closing his eyes once more to ride out the swell of pleasure.

He’d never wanted someone to touch him quite so badly and it seemed like Dean was drawing it out now just to be an ass or something. Which wasn’t likely but Sam was young and impatient and it had been far too long since he’d last felt pleasure like this. No matter how much he arched up into Dean’s touch, though, the man didn’t turn into the heat of his cock, and Sam couldn’t help a slightly strangled whimper.

“Sammy,” Dean laughed and slid back, rest on his knees between Sam’s spread legs, not touching at all. “Anyone ever told you you’re mighty impatient? Haven’t even got ya naked and you’re practically screaming for it.”

Sam huffed out a breath and pushed up to his elbows, grinning - albeit a little shyly - up at Dean. “Anyone ever told you you’re a fucking cock tease?”

“More than once.” Dean smirked and slid off the edge of the bed, dipping instantly down to tug off Sam’s shoes and socks and grab the hems of his jeans. “So, you got some lube and a condom stashed somewhere?”

Biting down on his lip, Sam nodded and wiggled his hips, helping Dean get the jeans the rest of the way off. Before the man could drag things out further - more teasing to drive Sam crazy - he hooked his thumbs under his waistband and lifted the material, kicking it swiftly off and rolling to the side. By the time he’d grabbed the lube and condom from the nightstand drawer - he may have been hoping this would happen with someone tonight - and rolled back, Dean had his jeans unbuttoned and his zipper down.

Sam wet his lips and fell back onto his elbows once more, his gaze traveling slowly down the full length of Dean. There was another scar on the left side of his abs and a strange pentagram shaped tattoo above his heart - that gave Sam pause with the nagging of something in his mind - but otherwise Dean was flawless and Sam shook off the weird feeling.

Dean’s hips were gently swaying from side to side as he worked his jeans down and Sam swallowed thickly, too riveted to turn his gaze away. “You’re gorgeous,” he whispered and slid one hand down, loosely trailing his finger tips over the swollen ache of his cock.

“Don’t touch,” Dean commanded. It was quiet but firm and Sam instantly dropped his hand, his heart clenching when Dean smiled. “Good boy. You know I’m the only one who gets to touch you.” As Dean finally dropped his jeans and boxers to the floor he crawled forward, sliding up the mattress between Sam’s instantly spreading legs. He dipped down and pressed his lips just above Sam’s knee, slowly kissing his way up. “Been thinking about this for so long now. Bet you’re nice and tight for me, right baby? Gonna feel so good with me buried deep in you.”

Reaching out, Sam strained until he could brush his fingers through Dean’s hair, desperate to get him closer. Dean’s lips on his skin were maddeningly soft, the whisper of touches as he crawled up, and Sam’s cock twitched against his abs with another swell of pleasure. “Dean,” he moaned, writhing once more, twisting impatiently on the soft motel blanket.

“Tell me how much you want it Sammy.” Dean breathed the words, moist overheated breath ghosted over Sam’s hip and causing him to shiver. “Tell me how much you miss my cock buried in you, claiming you, making you _mine_.”

The way Dean growled _mine_ brought a moan to Sam’s lips. He did feel like Dean’s, right there in that moment, with those strong fingers digging into his thighs and spreading him further apart. His mouth opened on a gasp, his fingers curling into the blanket at his side and up in Dean’s hair too tight. “Missed it,” he moaned and whispered, working to spread his legs even wider. “Need, need you Dean. Need you in me. Please, stop teasing. Been waiting so long.”

“Good boy, keep up that begging,” Dean murmured and Sam wanted to protest, call out because Dean’s lips brushing over his hipbone was enough to make the world flip upside down, but then he felt something cool slick on his skin. “Relax Sam, you know I’ll get you there. Trust me.”

Sam’s eyes fluttered open at that, staring at Dean hard as something pushed at his mind. Like the flicker of a memory, or a dream, or a moment he couldn’t put his finger on. _Trust me Sammy._ Those dark green eyes held his and Sam couldn’t look away because he felt like he was missing some giant piece of the puzzle, like some huge _hello Sam, wake up and smell the coffee_ smacking him in the face. But his lust heavy brain was struggling to see the bigger picture.

Then he couldn’t think at all because Dean’s finger was circling around his hole, teasing the puckered flesh, and whatever that nagging thing was, it fluttered away just as all the others had earlier. Sam tipped his head back and rolled his hips down, parting his lips in a loud moan as Dean’s finger slipped inside and all the way up in one smooth motion. The fingers in Dean’s hair pulled hard enough the man hissed, twisting to press a soft kiss down against Sam’s thigh.

Dean’s fingers continued a slow and steady circle fuck down into him, one driving down deep, crooking at the knuckle, pulling back, another added within minutes. Sam closed his eyes, only half registering the continuing tumble of words falling from Dean, the deep murmured honey tone of his voice more erotic then anything he could have said. Knowing Dean was just as turned on as Sam was currently was doing wonders for him and he used a good deal of the last of his control to keep from coming the moment Dean’s three fingers buried up in him rolled hard against his prostate.

“Please, Dean, god,” Sam finally gasped, forcing his head up to blink bleary eyes open and stare down at Dean. The man’s lips were still kiss swollen, his cheeks flushed, his eyes so dark Sam couldn’t see the green at all. His hair was almost completely spiked up from Sam’s fingers tugging through it so constantly and Sam was pretty sure the need for this to happen _right the fuck now_ was mutual. “Please. Dean, I need you.”

Once more Dean met his gaze but it was less intense this time, a hint of a smile on his lips as he finally pulled his fingers free and slid up to his knees. Sam watched as he rolled the condom on expertly, quickly slicking the latex with lube and crawling forward. “Hmm. Should I take you like this? Spread out so I can watch your pretty face when you come? Or should I flip you over onto your stomach and pound you down into the bed with each hard fuck?

Sam realized Dean was actually asking him, because he wanted to make this the best for Sam, and it was the first time in quite a while that he remembered this wasn’t his to keep. Dean had certainly been earning his money. He reached up and traced along Dean’s strong jaw, thumb sweeping across the smooth skin slowly. “Like this. Like watching you fall apart.”

Dean should be in movies, he was a fabulous actor. The way he tilted into the touch of Sam’s fingers, closed his eyes like he was savoring it, like this was the best thing that he’d ever had. As Dean dipped down and slanted their lips together, slipping his tongue forward, Sam decided believing that this really _was_ the best for Dean was the way to go.

When Dean breached him it was slow and tender and kind of perfect in that way Sam had always wanted but thought he’d never get. Their eyes locked and Sam held his breath only to release it with a slow exhale, relaxing his body so Dean could claim him completely. Dean was thick and full, a burning heat stretching Sam open and he may have bottomed before but it certainly never felt like this, like every nerve ending in his body was firing off in perfection.

“Oh god,” Sam gasped when Dean finally bottomed out and held there, panting against Sam’s parted lips. “Move. Damnit, move.”

A soft laugh fell from Dean, fading off within moments as the man drew back and thrust hard forward. It was no longer slow or tender but that was okay with Sam. He arched up into every hard drive of Dean’s hips down, always wanting him deeper, clenching his muscles to try and hold him there.

Dean pushed up off his body and dragged Sam’s legs to his shoulders, bending him in ways Sam hadn’t thought he could bend and fucking hard down into him. Half a dozen thrusts later and each hard snap was hitting Sam’s prostate, pushing up against the nerves and shooting sparks across Sam’s vision. He couldn’t catch his breath, his fingers gripping Dean’s arms and holding tightly, something to ground him because it felt like the pleasure was enough to send him reeling.

It was easy to lose track of most everything, how much time had passed and just how many times he’d moaned out Dean’s name. Instead he was caught up in each sharp forward thrust, the absolute full then the ache of loss as Dean drew back. Sam was fairly sure he’d lost his mind already, then Dean’s hand was working between them, curling around his cock and stroking in a matching pace to each thrust and Sam’s control snapped.

He came within heartbeats, gasping around a moan, fingers digging half moon nail imprints into Dean’s arms. “Jesus fuck, oh god Dean,” he groaned as his head rolled back into the pillow, muscles tensing and relaxing in a delicious wave that shook through Sam from head to toe.

“Fuck,” Dean moaned and his own hips stuttered to a stop, rolling into Sam. With the last little bit of energy Sam had left his forced his gaze open and stared up at Dean, watching the bliss of his orgasm relaxing all his features, his lips parted in the slightest of gasps.

Minutes - hours, lifetimes, whatever - later Dean let Sam’s legs drop and collapsed onto his chest, panting heavily into his neck. A smile twitched across Sam’s lips as his arms slowly curled around Dean’s shoulders. This was nice. Now that the crazy mind-reeling pleasure was just a peaceful post-orgasmic glow he could recenter his thoughts, put his control back in order. For a moment there he’d been so far gone he was a little worried he would slip into a vision. The last thing he needed was to see something involving this Dean’s future, right in the middle of sex. It wasn’t like the things he saw were often pleasant, like wining the lottery or something.

“Sleep,” Dean grunted as he finally pulled back from Sam and flopped onto his side. When he rolled away Sam bit his lip, heart pinching at the idea of Dean getting up and leaving so soon. But a moment later the man was rolling back, wiping at the come on his chest with Sam’s shirt then cleaning Sam off a beat later. “Cool if I crash here?” Their eyes met and Dean tossed the shirt to the floor. “Won’t cost you anything extra.”

Sam hadn’t been planning on asking that. Actually, he was kind of hoping they could continue to ignore the whole hooker thing. It wasn’t like he didn’t _know_ what Dean was. He was just... trying to ignore it for a while or something. Sam had come a long way in life on that happy little denial. “Yeah, of course you can stay here.”

“Sweet.” Dean smirked and rolled once more to hit the light then slipped under the blankets, tugging them over Sam. When Sam simply held still at his side Dean huffed and dropped an arm over his arm. “I fuck you stupid or something?”

There was a laugh with the words and Sam joined in softly, slowly tucking himself against Dean’s body when it seemed like the man wasn’t going to pull away. “You wish. Just um, if I start talking in my sleep or something? It’s just a nightmare, it’ll pass.”

“Okay,” Dean whispered but he didn’t sound all that put out and he didn’t pull away. Sam figured that had to be a good sign. So he closed his eyes and let himself drift off to sleep.

  


_“Happy fuckin’ birthday. Here’s hopin’ twenty four doesn’t kick my ass like twenty three did.”_

 _The deep, whisky rough voice was as familiar to Sam as breathing. As this dream. So many times the same images, the darkness creeping in shadows, the moonlight creating shadows, and that low growl echoing from just out of reach._

 _This time, more than ever, something nagged at Sam’s mind. There was something about this he felt he should know. Everything was sharper, brighter, louder than before. Like someone had amped up the Technicolor and given him 3D glasses._

 _“You got me, right? Gonna be the best year of your life. Wait. This- I know this- oh god.”_

 _There was a loud crash, the shatter of glass, and those low curses that already sounded pained. And this time, as Sam caught the flash of bright green eyes, everything flared painfully and he sucked in a sharp breath._

“Sam! Jesus, fuck, dude,” Dean was panting softly, staring wide eyed at Sam, his fingers curled hard around the hand Sam had around the hooker’s neck. When he saw the obvious panic in Sam’s eyes his grip and expression softened. “Are you okay?”

Swallowing thickly, Sam tugged his hand back and rubbed at his eyes. Something about staring into Dean’s sleepy bright green gaze, Sam felt like he was missing something. Something really important. But just as his dream always slipped further away the longer he was awake, that important thing Sam was trying to piece together remained just out of reach until he felt only the slightest little nagging press. Like the one he felt whenever he left a city and just _knew_ he’d left something behind in the motel, usually he always had.

“You’re quite possibly really freaking me the fuck out,” Dean muttered and slid to the side of the bed.

Sometimes Sam had this bad habit of getting lost in thought. Especially when his thoughts were so haywire. So he forced his gaze to Dean and shoved his fingers back through his hair. The muscles on Dean’s back rippled as he bent and Sam’s mind flashed to the night before, that body bearing down on him. Just like that Sam was rock hard. “Sorry. I um, I warned you about the nightmares.”

“Yeah well, didn’t mention you’d try and kill me in your sleep too.” Dean huffed but he shot Sam a smirk over his shoulder as he hopped into his jeans.

Sam’s lips twitched in a small smile and he shrugged, leaning back into his pillows. The clock on the nightstand said it was just after ten and pretty soon Sam would have to get dressed as well, there was no way he’d be able to afford another night here. But maybe he could afford a pretty decent breakfast for two. “Sorry about that. So um, you wanna hit a diner or something? Don’t know about you but after last night... well, definitely worked up an appetite.”

It was the way Dean suddenly stopped moving more than anything that gave Sam his answer. He kept his back to Sam and scratched over the morning stubble on his jaw, blowing out a breath low enough Sam could barely hear it. But he did and it was laced with something maybe a little like annoyance. “Look kid, last night, it was fucking good and I’m not just saying that. But you knew what I was going into this and just because we shared... just because of _that_ doesn’t mean I’m changing. And trust me, you’re better off for it.”

The way Sam’s heart sank made his stomach churn unpleasantly and he bit his lip and looked away, hoping the sting of rejection wasn’t obvious on his face. It wasn’t like he was _asking_ Dean to change for him. There had been several moments the night before when their eyes had met and locked and Sam could have sworn something was passing between them. Dean had to have felt the heavy weight in the air, the suggestion that this could possibly be _more_.

But of course, why would Dean even want something like that? With some kid who apparently had to pay someone to fuck him. It was ridiculous and Sam was an idiot for even thinking it. He didn’t want Dean to know just how crushed he was by the blow off so he scoffed and kicked the blanket off, certainly not hard anymore. “Was just askin’ you if you wanted some pancakes, jeez, fucking lay off. Acting like I’m proposing to you or something.”

He continued to mutter as he stepped quickly into jeans - not wanting to be naked for getting shot down. When he glanced over at Dean the man was watching him, his eyes narrowed slightly, and Sam bit his lip and turned away. This is probably why Sam didn’t pick people up very often, he was maybe a little emotionally retarded.

Before Dean could call him out on anything more or say something else to crush Sam’s spirits, Sam stuffed his hand in his pocket and tugged out the wad of bills still tucked away there. “How much do I owe you?”

“Seventy five,” Dean answered easily and if he was bothered by being basically brushed off, he didn’t show it.

“That’s it? For the whole night?” Sam glanced up at Dean then back down at his money, slowly thumbing through the bills. “You’re cheap.” He cringed at that, biting his lip around an apology.

Dean just laughed and stepped his way. “Tough economy, everybody’s making cuts. ‘Sides, I fucked you, you didn’t ask for anything particularly kinky, and you didn’t even really touch my cock. Seems unfair to charge you the normal going rate.”

“Gee, thanks for the discount.” Sam pursed his lips and handed Dean the money, heart sinking all over again. There was no reason for him to ever see Dean again and Sam felt like he was losing something more important than he could have known. “Well uh, thanks. For last night. Um. Yeah.”

“You’re welcome.” Dean nodded and tucked the money into his pocket, not bothering to count, which Sam supposed was something. Their gazes met and held for a long moment and Sam swallowed down a burst of sadness. “You um... gonna be okay kid?”

Sam frowned and tensed his shoulders, taking a defensive step back. “Not a kid. See you around, Dean.”

“Not likely.” Dean shrugged and considered him a moment longer before turning and heading for the door.

When Dean didn’t look back, Sam told himself it was for the best. This whole thing had left him aching - in more ways than just his ass - but Sam would be fine. He just had to be.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This power was something Sam always had, something he’d honed over the years. It wasn’t even that bad, being able to see people’s future with a simple touch, but it certainly didn’t make relationships very easy. So paying for sex just to feel that connection with someone? It was kind of like Sam’s right. If only someone had warned him just how things would change after hooking up with Dean.

It was never that hard to find a case. Sam could grab the arm of nearly anyone and see... something. But if you stopped that person and told them you’d just had a vision in which they stepped in front of a car and were killed the next day, well, that usually never went over so well. Also, Sam refrained from stopping those sorts of deaths. Sure it was sad - and certainly never pleasant to meet the person’s eyes for a split second and _know_ their days were numbered - but he didn’t want to fuck up fate.

People died, this was something Sam had known as far back as he could remember. People died and often it was gruesome, painful, but just the way of the world. And then there was the other way people died, the unnatural way, involving monsters and ghost and creatures lingering in the dark. At least nine times out of ten, the case Sam found himself on was at the hand of those monsters he knew were nothing close to human.

Every now and then Sam took a different kind of case, - a happy case even, something to help his sanity - but lately it’d been a steady stream of the odd and unusual. For some reason, those things that went bump in the night never freaked Sam out the way they maybe should. He was thankful for that, though he didn’t really understand why. Maybe the powers he’d always had, maybe the life _before_ he couldn’t remember, Sam wasn’t sure.

Currently he was looking for a new case. Sam had a routine he’d fallen into over the last couple of years. He settled into a town for a few cases, got comfortable with things, helped who he could in whatever way was needed. Then he left somewhere after case four or five, before he could gain too much notoriety and have people turning up at his hotel doorstep - not that he didn’t move hotels, he did, quite often - demanding their futures predicted. Sam never could quite get people to understand that he only ever saw _bad_ things.

It was amazing how quickly someone lost their eagerness to know what would happen in their lives when they learned what gruesome fate was most likely waiting for them. Because it always seemed like the ones who wanted to know were the ones getting shot or stabbed or torn to shreds by werewolves.

The Fortune Teller’s building he was waiting outside of was tacky - more than a little - complete with purple curtains, beads, and a sign with a palm declaring _come learn all life’s mysteries_. As far as Sam knew, it never really worked that way. He’d tried once, gone into one of these places and turned his palm out for a reading. The woman with the fake turban thing and strong perfume had told him he’d he was going to find a beautiful blonde woman, marry her, and have five kids.

There was so much wrong with that Sam couldn’t even _begin_ \- though, if he did, he supposed it would start somewhere with the whole, really fucking gay thing. Now he waited there because people who paid to see fortune tellers wanted to believe this stuff. It made Sam’s job easier and he helped who he could.

So far, the last three days had been unsuccessful. Actually, Sam was just about ready to throw in the towel, pack up his bags and head out, when the shop door opened and a woman strode out. She looked annoyed, clearly not pleased with whatever answers she didn’t get, and Sam pushed off the wall and took a slow step forward. He’d been doing this long enough he could usually pick out the people who were in the trouble right away, those who might be open to the idea of help, and all it came down to was his opening line.

This woman was clearly on a mission, ready to get as far away from the fortune teller as possible, so Sam didn’t have a lot of options. Before he could think better of it he was reaching out, wrapping a hand around the woman’s forearm and nearly tugging her to a stop. It only took a few moments to open his mind, let down the walls he worked so hard to keep up, and let the vision of the woman’s future hit him.

 _Panic. Sharp and shrill and terrifying. Running, the loud slap of feet on wet sidewalk, and the echo of harsh breathing. There was something steps behind, closing in, and the sharp flare of fear burned through Sam. There was no escaping whatever was on their heels._

 _The dark night whipped in his line of sight as the woman spun, continuing her steady run, until the creature just there behind them burst through a circle of street lamp light. Something familiar flashed through the woman and her steps slowed, her eyes widening. This was a creature she knew._

 _“But... I don’t understand,” she whispered, pressing a hand over her heart. The confusion, panic, fear, was a battling wave of emotion and radiating, smothering Sam. “How could you...”_

 _As they continued to stare the creature - that was less of a beast, Sam realized as it stepped back into the light, and more of a... large dog - slowly began to shift. The fur receded, the face shrunk, the body grew, and the woman’s fear tripled. The dog, not a beast, wasn’t even a creature at all. Human. A human male, standing before them now, half a smirk on his lips._

 _“Sarah, you always were one to trust to easily. But then, why would you not trust your darling little Rosco? How could your precious little puppy ever hurt you?”_

 _The flash of a blade, reflecting yellow dull light, and the harsh echoing scream of a woman who never could have known what was coming._

“Ex _cuse_ me,” the woman - Sarah, presumably - gasped as she shook her arm to free the tight grip Sam had on it.

When Sam was in the midst of a vision the world around him faded and, as it often was, the person he was touching was unable to shake the tight grip he had. Now that he was back to himself, though, he quickly dropped the girl’s arm, taking a step back and inhaling deeply. Believe it or not, this wasn’t the first shapeshifter Sam had come across. It was harder though, when the person knew the animal that was actually human, to get people to believe. “Sarah? That’s your name?”

The woman, understandably, took a step back and slid protective arms over her chest. “Do I know you?”

“You’re scared, looking for help.” Sam sighed and slid a hand back through his hair, trying to guess exactly what had happened to lead the girl here and how it tied together with his vision of her future. “Maybe... you feel like someone’s been watching you? Someone is... doing something in your life that’s terrifying you.”

If anything, the expression on the woman’s face hardened even more and she scoffed, rolling her shoulder up and back. “Is this some sick joke? You make it a habit to prey on people who’ve just left...” Her eyes shot over to the fortune teller’s shop and Sam pursed his lips.

Okay so most of the time he was pretty good at figuring out who would be accepting toward him and his powers. But _sometimes_ there were people he was meant to help that wanted nothing to do with him and Sam had to get creative. Especially since the woman was already turning and heading off down the sidewalk.

“Watch out for Rosco!” he called after the woman, hurrying forward a few steps to get a look at her license plate. It wasn’t lost on him that the woman was wearing the same outfit as she was in her vision. Her untimely, unnatural death was going to be happening that night. “He’s not who you think he is!”

She stopped to stare at him for just a moment before slipping behind the wheel of her car. Sam stared hard at the license plate, repeating the letter/number combo over and over in his mind until he was sure he had it down.

Sam was just about to turn and head for his motel, ready to track the girl down, when a semi-familiar voice was calling out to him. “Sam? Are you fucking kidding me?”

It was more than a shock to see Dean there. Sam had assumed over the last few days that he’d never see the man again - even if he’d spent a little too long scouting out the hotel lobby before he’d left, just in case. This was generally a decent part of town - a thought of which made Sam flinch, like hookers couldn’t be in _nice_ areas or something. “Um... Dean?”

“You? _You’re_ the god damn wanna be psychic?” Dean huffed and shoved a hand up through his hair. “Shoulda put the damn pieces together. Kid like you? Where the hell would you get that kind of money? So how’s it work? You research these people online? Figure out who’s vulnerable and take advantage of them then get them to pay you for it? That’s fucking sick man.”

Sam blinked a few times, allowing himself a minute to absorb Dean’s slightly insane questions. He wasn’t entirely sure where to begin. “Okay wait, just, just hold on a second, okay? Because, you’ve got the completely wrong idea.”

“Do you know what kind of damage you could be doing to these people, Sam? Jesus, fuck, is that even your name?” Dean scowled, his shoulders tense and hard lined beneath his dark leather jacket.

He didn’t look at all like he’d looked the other night. Not a hooker trying to pick up tricks or something. He actually kind of looked like a completely different person and Sam took a step back, more than a little unsure. “Why would I lie about my name?” Sam tried not to pout but well, Dean was throwing him completely off. Until of course he remembered that Dean had _no right_ to call him out like this and Sam wasn’t going to take it laying down. “And fuck off man! Don’t pretend to know me. You don’t even know what the hell you’re talking about.”

Dean eyed him, clearly thoroughly unimpressed, and folded his arms over his chest. “Oh yeah? Then fucking explain it to me because I’m about ten seconds from kicking your ass on principle alone.”

Sam groaned and shoved his hand back through his hair in agitation, pacing a few steps away then spinning quickly to keep Dean from tackling him or something else this clearly mad man could be capable of. “I _am_ psychic you idiot. Did you even bother to talk to the people I’ve helped? Find out what I’ve done for them? And I never ask for anything so stop making me sound like some damned prostit-”

The word cut off on a strangled choke but it was too late, something dark flashed in Dean’s eyes and clearly Sam was not winning the guy over. “Alright, you’re coming with me.” Dean reached out sharply and snagged Sam’s jacket sleeve, tugging him down the sidewalk to a shiny black Impala.

“What? I’m not-”

“Save it, man, I am not interested in hearing any more of your insanity,” Dean huffed and shoved Sam a little too hard into the passenger’s side of the car. “Get the fuck in and I promise not to wail on you in public.”

Something about the smirk on Dean’s lips had Sam completely believing the threat and well, there wasn’t much of a choice in the matter. So he quickly climbed in the car and hoped this virtual stranger - who’d had his cock buried in Sam just days before, yeah, irony - wasn’t about to take him to some deserted road somewhere to kill him.

They pulled up in front of a motel that looked exactly like one Sam would have usually chosen to stay in. It could have been his motel, for that matter, but it wasn’t. It was Dean’s and Sam was apparently supposed to follow him inside. Fuck that.

Or, at least, he could _think_ fuck that. There was no way in hell he was getting behind a closed door with this psychopath that’d probably kill him with an ice pick or something. But once more he wasn’t given much of a choice when Dean yanked the passenger door open and tugged him out by his collar, nearly dragging him across the parking lot and throwing him into the motel room.

Sam stumbled before catching himself, arms extended to the side, eyes wide. The table in Dean’s motel room was covered with dissembled weapons, at least five guns that Sam couldn’t identify, and suddenly the man was literally playing into the psychopath image Sam had silently accused him of.

He continued to stare at the guns, wondering just how long it would take for Dean to put one back together and land a bullet in his brain, when the motel door slammed shut and Sam jumped. Dean laughed. No big surprise there by this point. “Little jumpy there Sam? Wonder why that could be. Maybe you have something you’re hiding that you’d like to get off your chest?”

“There are guns all over your table,” Sam pointed out, uselessly, since he had yet to be able to tear his gaze away from said weapons. Only now he did, eyes swinging wide up to Dean. “Why are there guns all over your table?”

“Not enough room in my duffel bag?” Dean suggested with a shrug, crossing the room and slipping off his leather jacket. “Christo. No? Okay, well that’s good then. Not sure what I’d do if I found out I fucked a demon.”

Sam’s brain was having trouble. His mouth opened and closed a couple of times as he made the leap from what he knew about the world and what Dean was suggesting. And, alright, demons weren’t _that_ much of a leap from shapeshifters - actually, demons were probably less crazy than shapeshifters - but the fact that Dean clearly knew about them and momentarily thought Sam might be one, was a little much. It did explain the guns though. “So what, you’re like, a... a... Ghostbuster or something?”

Dean snorted a laugh as he kicked off his shoes and dropped into a chair at the table, reaching to begin reassembling one of the weapons before him. He was pretty sure Dean was doing that on purpose, just to freak him out. “Sure, Sam, I’m who you’re gonna call.” Dean shot him a look close to a glare then used the barrel of his gun to point at the seat across from him. “Plant it and start talking.”

Again with the no choice thing. Sam liked Dean a lot more in his hooker form. Which was... a horrible thought. Sam was a horrible person. But then, he wasn’t the one with a bunch of guns in front of him. Until of course he dropped into the seat at the table and the guns were at fingers reach but, whatever. “I don’t know what else you expect me to say.”

“How about the truth?” Dean arched a brow, the echoing click snap of the gun in his grip sliding into place hammering through Sam’s senses. “What’s the point of this con? How do you line up their futures just right to make them believe?”

Sam groaned and rubbed along his brow, wondering if he could even begin to explain this in a way that would make Dean believe him. “You said... demon, before. You believe in this stuff right? The creatures like shapeshifters, all that stuff?”

If it were possible, Dean’s brow arched even higher and his hands stilled on the weapon in his grasp. “What do you know about shapeshifters?”

“The woman from today, at the fortune teller’s place, I saw her being attacked by one. I _saw_ her Dean. It’s not a con, I don’t set it up. It’s just what I see and I can’t stop it. I mean, fuck, you really think I want to see someone being murdered by a dog that can turn into a human?” Sam huffed and let his hand drop hard on the table, flinching as several pieces of metal clattered along the surface.

Dean didn’t entirely looked like he believed but he slowly leaned forward and set the gun down on the table in front of him. It wasn’t facing Sam so he figured that had to be a step in the right direction. “And if you can’t help it, if you see these things, then that means you saw something when you were with me... right? This supposed super power is touch activated?”

It just figured that things would come down to this. Dean wanted to know what Sam saw about his future, probably looking for a lottery win or something. It was a pretty common outcome for those who found out. “I’ve had this power my whole life. Or at least as far back as I can remember. I’ve learned some tricks about keeping the visions away, building up the walls and stuff. I didn’t see anything about your future.”

“Well that’s a handy excuse.” Dean rolled his eyes then shifted forward, tugging at his shirt and rolling up the sleeve. “Do it now then. Prove it to me.”

“Prove- Dean, come on! Sometimes I see things weeks, maybe even months in advance. Are you just gonna expect me to stay here with you until whatever it is comes true?” Sam huffed and looked away.

“Guess we’ll just see how it goes huh?” Dean was smirking again - go figure - and he dropped his hand with a shrug of his shoulder. “Look, Sam, in my line of work I deal with a lot of shit and my tolerance for people like you? Especially if you’re faking it. It’s not very high. So if you wanna come out of this unharmed, I suggest you do _something_ to make me believe.”

How many times in the last hour, half hour, whatever, had Sam not really been given a choice at Dean’s hand? The man was some kind of crazy control freak. And well, last Sam knew, Dean’s line of work was prostitution. Clearly he didn’t have all the pieces to this puzzle and it was really starting to grate his nerves that he had to be the only one explaining anything.

Still, Dean was damn strong and Sam wouldn’t be able to take him in a fight so Sam pushed out of his chair and crossed to Dean. “Fine. But don’t you dare bitch at me if you don’t like what I see.”

Before Dean could use any of that standard snark Sam was grabbing his forearm and closing his eyes. Anyone who had so many weapons, apparently actively hunted down these crazy beasts, couldn’t possibly have a good future waiting for them.

 _It wasn’t the future._

 _Sam knew that the moment his eyes landed on the two children running. The oldest was tugging the younger behind him, yelling, and everything blurred, clouded for a moment before straightening out._

 _“Run Sammy! Come on!”_

 _“I can’t De. Can’t anymore. I’m tired.” The smaller boy was panting even as dropped against the wall of the church they’d been running toward. “Why we runnin’ De?”_

 _“I told you, Dad...” Dean sighed and paced a few steps away and back, reaching out to tug the boy from the wall and hug him close. “He doesn’t understand you Sammy. He wants to send you away. You gotta... you have to hide Sam. You hide and when they find you, you don’t tell them who you are. Don’t say your last name.”_

 _“But I don’t wanna leave you.” Sammy tugged back and - for just a moment Sam found himself staring into his own eyes. He’d know them anywhere. But that, that didn’t make sense._

 _“I’ll find you Sammy. I will. One day.”_

 _It was too much. It wasn’t clicking together and lining up in Sam’s mind. And he forced himself from the vision, from the past._

Stumbling back, Sam’s arm snapped out, smacking hard into the TV as he sucked in a breath. “God. God. Fuck. No. This can’t- there’s no- you _can’t_ be.”

“Sam?” Dean, understandably, sounded a little weary at the sudden turn of events. “What? Let me guess, torn apart by a werewolf? Fuck man, long as it’s not a vampire bite. Hate those blood suckers.”

“Dean-” Sam gasped because things kept piling up in his mind and it was making him a little sick. Like, _oh fuck_ , this was the big brother he’d never known and he’d let the man _claim_ him.

“Oh come on Sam, you can tell me. It’s not like I can’t handle i-”

“You called me Sammy,” Sam interrupted in a gasp, finally dropping hard onto the foot of the bed. “You called me Sammy and you hid me away, in a church. Because... because Dad thought I was crazy. He was gonna send me away. But I was scared - so scared, I didn’t, I didn’t want to leave you.”

The silence that reigned after Sam’s explosion was, oddly enough, painfully loud. Sam felt every breath hard in his chest as he struggled to understand. There was so much clicking together in his brain it felt painful. Because it wasn’t just that Dean was his brother, that Dean fucked him before they possibly could have known. There was even more - like Sam needed that. The dream, that damn dream he’d had his whole life and those bright green eyes he always should have been able to place but never really could.

“Sammy,” Dean finally whispered after what felt like a lifetime. When Sam looked up their eyes met and locked and Dean’s gaze narrowed. “How... but you’re... no way. This is just - man. This is just your fucking game right? I have no fucking clue how you found out about my brother but don’t you _dare_ talk about him like you’re-”

“Oh get over yourself!” Sam shoved hard off the bed, glaring at Dean. “Why the fuck would I make this up? Any of this? Because, oh yeah, wouldn’t it be fucking _hilarious_ to pretend like you’re the long lost brother I never knew that I also happened to let fuck me? It’s not like you’re gonna pay me. What would I have to gain by conning you?”

“I don’t know. How the hell should I know how a mad man’s mind works?” Dean continued to protest but Sam could see it, the way the truth was settling in. Dean knew it was true, the longer he stared the more it painted across his features, and Sam sank back onto the bed once more because his legs couldn’t hold him up any longer. “I didn’t know. That you were...”

“Of course you didn’t.” Sam shrugged like it was no big deal - like _hell_ it was - and tangled his fingers up into his hair. “How could you have? I... Sam, it’s a common enough name. Not like we talked about our pasts. You couldn’t have... Jesus. This is- god. I don’t even- Dean, there’s more. There’s something I saw I need to tell you-”

“I think I deserve a few minutes to really take in what you’re telling me now.” Dean cut him off and lifted a hand, shaking his head roughly. “I can’t take anymore at the moment, so just, yeah.”

Sam sighed but didn’t push. Dean kind of looked like he was about to snap and well, Sam didn’t blame him. How he was even managing coherent thought at this point was really a little beyond him. Things weren’t really lining up just yet, not the way they should be, and Sam kept coming back to the one glaring truth. Dean was the long lost brother he didn’t remember having. And, Dean had _fucked_ him. _And_ it had been the first time in Sam’s entire life when he truly felt _good_.

A long time ago Sam had accepted the fact that he was more than a little _touched_ in the head but this was pushing all new levels of insane.

“Jesus Christ Sammy,” Dean nearly hissed what felt like hours later.

Sam barely had time to brace himself before Dean was crossing the room and tugging him off the foot of the bed, yanking him hard forward. For just a moment Sam was a little worried he was about to be tossed flat out on his ass or something but then Dean’s arms were wrapping tight around him and Sam realized it was a … hug. Being hugged by anyone was a rarity, being hugged by Dean in that moment was kind of a whole new degree of absurd.

“Are you kidding me?” Sam huffed and knocked Dean back, arms flailing for a moment out at his sides. “You can’t just- what- it doesn’t work that way Dean.”

“Not familiar with how to hug?” Dean’s brow arched and he smirked but, as Sam continued to stare, the action slowly faded. Like Dean was realizing that question might not be all that off base. “I just... fuck, Sam, I haven’t seen you since you were four.”

“You said you’d find me,” Sam whispered, the vision - memory - fluttering back through his mind’s eye once more. He couldn’t recall the moment in his own memories, like Dean’s warning to not talk about his family had somehow erased them from Sam’s mind. But now that he had Dean’s memory of the time, the always lingering ache that he’d never been able to name in his chest grew and stretched to a breaking point.

“Sammy...”

“You said you’d _find me_ ,” Sam snapped and knocked Dean’s hand away as he reached out for him. A whole life time of anguish, being passed from foster home to group home to another group of damn kids who mocked and teased, never being able to touch or be touched without seeing something horrible, being so truly alone it haunted every moment of his pitiful existence. It all added up to an explosion in Sam’s chest and he stumbled back, sucking in a sharp breath. “I waited for you! Even after I couldn’t remember who I was anymore I waited. I _knew_ someone would find me but you never did. What? Did you just not give a fuck anymore? Got your crazy little brother out of your hair and finally got to live your life without worrying I’d start rambling about what I saw whenever I touched someone?”

“Jesus, Sam, it wasn’t like that.” Dean looked shocked - even more so than before, which was saying something - and he tried a slow step forward and reach out for Sam once more. “I swear it wasn’t.”

But Sam was done listening, especially to Dean, and he shouldered hard past him to get to the motel door. There were tears burning in his eyes and Sam didn’t really want Dean to see how weak he was but he couldn’t resist driving his point home. He spun to Dean with his hand still on the door knob, shaking his head just barely at Dean’s unsure step forward.

“You have no idea what it was like for me. Do you think they give a damn about a kid who doesn’t even know who he is? I was _nothing_ Dean. They tossed me wherever they could find a spare bed and left me there to rot. And any time, _any time_ , I tried to get closer to someone I had to watch them die in some horrible way or watch some creature tear after them in the darkness. I _needed_ you Dean and you just... left me out there in the world to fend for myself.”

Dean blew out a slow breath and shook his head once more, his jaw clenching tight with the press of his teeth together. “I tried Sam, I swear I did. But I was eight years old when that all happened, what could I do? And Dad... god, Sam, he wanted to lock you up. He thought you were crazy. I had to get you away from that. You had to be safe.”

“Safe? Are you fucking kidding me?” Sam’s fist collided a little too hard with the door but he schooled back the flinch. “What do you think they do to kids that don’t talk Dean? To kids who can’t even stand up and fight for themselves because they’re terrified to touch anyone? Jesus Christ, I’ve spent my entire life just trying to keep from giving up on living all together and _that’s_ what you wanted me to have? I would have been better off in a fucking mental ward, because in case you missed the memo I _am_ crazy.”

“What? No. Sam, come on, you’re not crazy.” Dean groaned and rubbed along the back of his neck. “This is crazy. This conversation. This entire fucking thing is crazy. But you are not. Just, sit down a minute and we can... I don’t know, talk or whatever. You can tell me about you.”

Sam rolled his eyes so hard it hurt, shaking his head for the thousandth time as he turned to the door and tugged it open. “At least I know insanity runs in the family. I’m _not_ having some little chat with you like we’re... like we’re actually brothers. Leave me alone Dean, I’ve made it my whole life without you so clearly I don’t need you anymore.”

With that he stepped out of the room and slammed the door behind him. Running away wasn’t really the best idea but apparently, it was another of those family traits, and Sam was pretty good at it.

“So this is really what you do?”

It wasn’t really all that surprising that Dean would track him down but days had passed since Sam had stormed out of the motel room belonging to his long lost brother and Sam had kind of thought the man had left. After all, wasn’t it so much easier to just abandon him once more like Dean had done a whole lifetime ago? Was Sam bitter? No. Not a _bit_.

Some part of Sam had resigned himself to the idea of keeping Dean in his past - where he clearly belonged - and finding him now waiting in Sam’s motel room as he pushed the door open was both infuriating and spine tingling. The not surprising part was Dean’s ability to hunt him out and sneak into his motel room, like he had the right to just invade on Sam’s little shreds of privacy.

“Door issues?” Sam huffed and kicked the door shut behind him, juggling his bag of fast food and file of papers to the table, dropping them all with a clatter. When he looked up to find Dean watching him with raised brows he sighed and shrugged off his coat. “As in, you don’t know how to wait outside of one until the person who actually belongs here comes back?”

Dean laughed and dropped the paper he’d been holding - the one that Sam had sketched out of the shapeshifter he’d seen in his vision of Sarah’s future. “So you inherited the hunting genes but not so much with the come backs.”

Frowning, Sam draped his coat over the back of the chair and stared down at his food, trying to piece together what Dean meant. Ever since he’d learned the truth about the family he couldn’t remember he’d split his time between researching Sarah in his vision - hoping to get to her in time - and looking for more information about Dean. As it turned out though, finding out information about Dean was next to impossible; it was like the man didn’t even really exist, so a chance to learn something about his family was a little hard to pass up on.

“What do you mean hunting genes?” He finally gave into the temptation to ask. He didn’t need Dean as part of his life, he maybe didn’t even _want_ him around, but since he didn’t have a choice at the moment he might as well take advantage of it. “This is about the weapons? And the um, you knowing about demons and all that stuff?”

Dean sighed and pulled out the other chair at the table, dropping heavy down onto it and reaching out for the bag of food. “Oh so, now you’d like to talk?”

“Is douche bag your default mode or something?” Sam’s hand snapped out over the bag before Dean could drag out the contents, sliding it back across the table and out of reach.

The sigh that left Dean that time sounded somewhere between pained and annoyed and Sam squirmed uncomfortably in his chair. This whole damn thing was awkward and painful and harder than anything Sam had ever been through, which was saying a lot. Dean didn’t look too pleased about the entire situation either but he was the one who’d come after all. “Civil conversations weren’t really part of my dad’s lesson plans.”

“Our dad.” Sam looked up from the bag of food, gaze leveling on Dean long enough to catch a glimpse of those bright green eyes. They’d still been haunting his dreams but Sam supposed they’d get around to that now. “He was my dad, right?”

“Yeah, of course Sam.” Dean dragged fingers along his arm for a moment, dropping back in his chair and letting his gaze settle on the table. “Before we... do this. Sam, you gotta know. I looked for you. I couldn’t the first couple of years but once I was old enough to be left alone I did. I tried so hard. And the day I turned eighteen I left my- I left Dad behind and went back to that church in Wisconsin. I tracked you as far as I could but it’s not like I could prove you were my brother and they wouldn’t tell me anything.”

Not believing Dean would be easy. Sam could turn him away, blow him off, _abandon_ him. But it wouldn’t really get Sam very far, just right back in that same place he’d been before, completely alone and clueless about who he really was. There was still the fact of what he’d done with Dean before they knew but if Dean was willing to pretend it hadn’t happened then Sam could too. “And Dad... he was just okay with me disappearing? He never tried to look for me or anything?”

Dean flashed him a pained look then quickly lifted a hand to rub fingers into his brow. “Sam... Dad was, he had a lot of issues okay? When Mom died he just... couldn’t function right. He went on this crazy rampage to kill all these crazy monsters, it was all he really cared about. And we got a little lost in the shuffle, you more than me because I just could always hold my own better or something. But you were different, not bad, just _different_ you know?”

No, Sam didn’t really know, but he was finally learning something about his past and fighting with Dean about terminology would just waste time. “So, I’ve always had this power then? Is it... the way Mom died and stuff, that has to do with the rampage Dad went on, and my powers, all of that is linked together right?”

“I don’t know Sam. Hell, back then I didn’t even believe some of the things you said. I thought maybe you were just acting out or something, you’d talk about all these crazy things you saw and I just thought it was like a game you played.” Dean gave him a sad smile, leaning his elbows on the table and reaching out for the papers Sam had brought in with him. “I guess Dad must have realized it was more than that and when it came to him, there was no grey. It was black and white, evil and good. And you were...”

“Evil?” Sam straightened in his chair, his eyes widening in something like fear. The idea of being _evil_ was one of those deep dark secrets Sam never admitted even to himself. “I don’t hurt anyone. I never would. I swear I’m not evil or black or whatever he thought I was.”

“Hey, I know that.” Dean’s hand extended to Sam, hesitating above his forearm before drifting back and away. “Why do you think I did what I did? It’s not like I wanted you gone Sam. Jesus, you were my entire world, my best friend, the _one_ person I could count on. I was eight years old and I knew that, just like I knew I had to get you somewhere safe so Dad didn’t do something stupid. And, like I said, I really did try and find you.”

The sincerity in Dean’s eyes was impossible to ignore. But admitting that Dean was serious about all he said was a little terrifying and Sam had to look away, swallowing thickly as he struggled to accept what was likely the truth. Dean hadn’t wanted him gone, Sam shouldn’t have grown up alone, but he had and it was over and this was kind of like his one chance. “Dad is... he’s gone now yeah? The way you were talking about him...”

“Yeah, he passed away last year. Not that him and I spoke much in the last few years. Like I said, he was a bit crazy with this hunting thing.” Dean’s fingers drummed over the table for a moment before he blew out a low breath and slumped back in the seat. “So, _now_ will you tell me about you? Because I think I did my fair share of opening up or whatever the hell you were looking for.”

Sam laughed softly and shook his head, reaching into his bag finally to pull out two burgers and a thing of fries. “Want one?”

“Were you really gonna eat those both? Jeez, pig.” Dean smirked and reached out for extra burger, hesitating with his hand on the foil. “Unless... whoa, did you know I was coming here?”

This time Sam laughed louder, opening his burger and taking a large bite. “That’s really not the way it works. Do you seriously not believe me on that?”

“Nah, I do. I don’t get it all but I know you wouldn’t lie to me. Not now.” Dean smiled - surprisingly soft - at Sam before leaning in to take a large bite. “I checked out this girl by the way. Took care of the dog... man, dog man.”

Sam nearly choked on a fry, quickly standing to grab a beer from the mini-fridge and tug the top off. Apparently Dean being so considerate was a little shocking to Sam, though maybe it shouldn’t have been. Not now that he’d learned so much.

“Fuck Sam, can’t die now, I just found you again.” Dean laughed but it sounded a little forced and in the next moment Dean’s hand was clapping hard down on his back. “How’d you score beer anyway? You’re not twenty one yet.”

Sam arched a brow at Dean as his coughs finally quieted with another long pull from the bottle. “Oh yeah, because the guy who’s a hooker in his spare time totally has the right to lecture me.” Sam paused as his words sank in - the closest they’d come to addressing the whole _we slept together_ issue - and Dean’s hand hesitated on his back. “Fuck.”

“I was wondering how long it’d take to get back to this,” Dean sighed and turned away, stooping down to grab a beer for himself from the fridge and heading back to the table. “It’s just a way to make money Sam. It’s easier than some of the other ways and I can still hunt. So it works for me.”

Once the beer in his hand was finished off and Sam had a second one - this was an _alcohol essential_ conversation - he trailed Dean to the table. “So I guess people don’t um, occasionally give you gifts like they do me huh?”

“Not particularly,” Dean muttered around a bite of burger, slumping back in his chair and eyeing Sam a moment later. “Not a lot of people in my line of work really, not alive people anyway. Usually when I get on a case it’s after there’s already a stream of bodies and I can only push for so many answers before I get doors slammed in my face.”

“That sounds... hard.” It hadn’t occurred to Sam until that moment that Dean might have had it just as hard as he had. Maybe even harder in some ways. At least all Sam had to deal with growing up was bullies; Dean grew up around monsters with a Dad that had basically raised him to hunt those creatures. And now he was selling his body to make extra money. The thought alone made Sam’s heart hurt. “Maybe, it doesn’t have to be that way anymore.”

Out of the corner of his eye he watched as Dean lifted his beer and sipped from it, trying to read between the tense line of Dean’s shoulders. “Did you have something specific in mind Sam?”

Clearing his throat, Sam shifted in his chair, picking at his fries uncertainly. “It’s just, we both basically do the same thing yeah? Only you’re probably better at it then me. I mean look, you already took care of the shapeshifter and I haven’t even been able to track Sarah down. So I could do my vision thing and you can do your hunting thing and maybe you could even teach me a little... you know, if you wanted.”

“Sam,” Dean dragged his name out in a sigh and Sam’s stomach lurched. That didn’t sound so promising. “I want... god, you have no idea how much I’d love to have you around all the time. It’s just... I’m not really sure it’s the best idea, you know?”

Again, no, Sam didn’t know. And this time he was fighting the issue because it didn’t seem fair. He’d opened himself up to the idea of listening to Dean, talking about things, separating now didn’t make sense. “No. That’s, come on Dean, I could be a good partner. I can learn really fast. We can pool our resources and you know, just work together. Why wouldn’t you want that?”

“It’s not that I don’t.” Dean groaned and dropped his hand hard onto the table, pushing up out of the chair. “Don’t be an idiot, of course I want you around. It’s just-”

“What? You think I’m not good enough?” Sam pushed up to his feet as well, clenching his jaw as he watched Dean pace back and forth. “Let me at least prove myself, Dean, Jesus. I could have found that shapeshifter. And, I would have, if you hadn’t, so don’t-”

Sam’s steadily hardening words - his tone rising with anger - were suddenly cut off by Dean yanking him hard forward by the shirt collar. Their lips crashed together and Sam was slammed hard by the lust he’d been trying to ignore since he’d learned who Dean was. How could he forget what it felt like to be so thoroughly kissed by Dean? To feel _claimed_ in such a way?

“This, Sam,” Dean gasped as he pulled back from the kiss, shaking Sam slightly by his still tight grip on Sam’s shirt. “I’ve waited my whole damn life to have my brother back and I can’t fuck that up by being this sick _fuck_. How do I look at you as just my brother when I feel like I can still taste you and feel your heat around me? God, do you know how hard that is to get past?”

Before Dean could pull away Sam reached out, snagging the man and tugging him close once more. “So don’t get past it,” Sam whispered before sealing their lips together. It wasn’t so much a matter of conscious thought really, because Sam hadn’t really started thinking of Dean as his brother, not entirely. Sure it wasn’t foolproof logic but when was that ever how Sam’s life worked?

Their lips slid hard together and this time Sam didn’t let Dean simply take the control. He kissed back just as hard, his tongue fighting against Dean’s before allowing the man’s to sweep forward and paint across the inside of mouth. It brought a low moan up in Sam and he arched into the heat of Dean, tangling his fingers up into short cropped hair. When Dean moaned into the part of his lips Sam’s heart skipped a beat and he forced them to step back toward the bed.

Then Dean’s fingers were driving into his shoulders and shoving back and Sam stumbled, calves hitting the foot of the mattress and causing him to drop down onto his ass. Sam was panting heavily, lust-blurry gaze fixing up on Dean just to make sure he wasn’t about to freak out. “Dean?”

“There’s no going back from this, this time Sam. You get that right?” Dean asked quietly even as he slowly slipped off his over shirt.

Sam’s eyes instantly fixed on the hard curve of Dean’s muscles beneath the short sleeves of his undershirt and his cock twitched. “I think about you buried in me all the time. I’ve never... it’s never been like that with anyone else. If I had to choose, between you as a brother and a lover, god, Dean, I think you’d know what I’d pick.”

Dean’s tongue dragged slowly over his lips as he considered Sam. Then his fingers were curling under the hem of the under shirt and lifting and Sam nearly moaned aloud. He hadn’t been able to appreciate Dean’s body as much as he should have during their one night together and now his eyes roamed appreciatively over the sculpted muscles, taking in every inch of him.

“Guess we can figure out a way to be both,” Dean murmured moments before dipping down and capturing Sam’s lips against his own once more. “Somehow.”

Dean’s breath was hot against Sam’s neck as he pushed him back on the bed, working them both up along the mattress, his fingers already inching up under Sam’s shirt. It was too much for his brain, figuring out a way they could make the brothers and lovers thing work, so Sam simply tucked the issue away and gave in to the feel of Dean’s lips sliding along his neck, over his sensitive skin.

They rolled along the mattress as Sam allowed his shirt to be tugged off and pulled at Dean’s jeans, kicking out of his shoes. It was frantic, like the moment they both gave in to having this, they couldn’t possibly wait a moment longer. Denim and cotton slid through Sam’s fingers as he rid Dean of his clothes and kicked out of his own, rolling to straddle his brother and rock their bodies together.

Dean groaned and arched up into him, clawing fingers over Sam’s shoulder and tugging him down for another hard, sharp thrust of tongue. As their cocks slid and rocked together Sam moaned loudly, clutching to Dean when his brother rolled him, falling between his legs instead. It was a heady rush to all his senses to feel needed this way, wanted so badly, and Sam was already addicted.

If this was how it felt then Sam could very easily come to terms with the idea of merging the lines between brothers and lovers. After all, how could anything possibly be better than this? Feeling like finally, for the first time, he truly belonged _with_ someone.

“Don’t even have to know you to know your brain is working too hard right now,” Dean grunted into the kiss, lifting his body to work his hand between them and curl his fingers over both their cocks, stroking steadily along overheated skin. “Still thinking Sammy?”

Sam moaned long and low, arching up into Dean’s grasp, struggling to pull him close for another kiss. He couldn’t get enough of Dean’s full lips, already so beyond addicted he wanted to spend the rest of his life learning all the things he could do with his brother. Then he really couldn’t think any further because Dean’s thumb was sweeping along the head of his cock and Sam’s orgasm was exploding from him alarmingly fast.

The sensation overload was just too much but Dean was coming just as hard, just as fast, so Sam didn’t feel too bad. And well, they had a lot of time for each other now, they’d build up their tolerance or whatever.

“Jesus,” Dean whispered, slumping down on Sam, rolling off him a moment later.

Sam blinked up at the stained motel ceiling, sucking in quick breaths to calm the still out of control race of his heart. As his body cooled his mind flashed with the dream he’d had his whole life, the man at his side, his entire fucking world that felt like it’d been flipped upside down in a few short days. “Dean, we need to talk.”

“This is gonna be your thing isn’t it?” Dean muttered but he rolled toward Sam, dropping his arm over Sam’s middle. “Does it gotta be now?”

“Yeah. Look Dean, about your twenty fourth birthday...”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This power was something Sam always had, something he’d honed over the years. It wasn’t even that bad, being able to see people’s future with a simple touch, but it certainly didn’t make relationships very easy. So paying for sex just to feel that connection with someone? It was kind of like Sam’s right. If only someone had warned him just how things would change after hooking up with Dean.

“Happy fuckin’ birthday. Here’s hopin’ twenty four doesn’t kick my ass like twenty three did.”

“You got me, right? Gonna be the best year of your life,” Sam laughed and paused with the mouth of his beer bottle pressed to his lower lip. Sometimes Sam wondered if life really was predestined, if the visions he had were set in stone and would happen as he saw them, no matter what he changed.

These lines, he’d heard so many times. He’d been waiting for this moment for months but it wouldn’t go like it had before. It couldn’t. Sam was confident of that. Dean had become the very center of his world and there was no way Sam was letting that go. So he was changing that dream he’d had countless times over the course of his life - keeping his mouth shut against the threat of words rising up in him - and the clicking barrel of Dean’s gun told him his brother had the same plan.

“Hey.” Dean’s voice was quiet against the back of his ear, the rush of warm air sending a familiar tingle of heat down the back of his neck. “It’s you and me Sammy, just us now yeah? Not gonna let anything take you away from me.”

It wasn’t Sam’s life that was in danger, he knew this. The dreams hadn’t stopped since Dean became a center in his life. They hadn’t really intensified either. They were exactly the same and countless times Sam had to watch through shadows as his brother, lover, the most important person in his entire world was torn apart. He’d never been able to identify what the creature was that attacked Dean in his vision but they were prepared for all outcomes.

“Sam, look at me,” Dean whispered and Sam was pretty sure he heard something at the door, scratching or something. Sam’s breath hitched but Dean cupped his jaw, forcing his gaze to the side so their eyes can meet. “Did you see me die?”

Staring for a long moment, Sam had to force himself to think of the dream. He could remember blood, screams, bright green eyes but no, he could never say for sure that he’d seen Dean die. And well, it was just a sign as to how well Dean had come to know him, because it was exactly what Sam needed to think to feel a thousand times better.

“No,” he breathed and slowly shook his head. “I didn’t... never saw you die.”

“Then stop fucking freaking out and take a gun.” Dean laughed and pressed the cool barrel into Sam’s palms.

They’d decided on silver bullets - because the timing lined up on a full moon and Dean wanted to be extra safe - but the idea of a werewolf was kind of more terrifying then anything Sam had seen over the last few months. And considering he’d come up in front of more than a few pretty pissed off spirits, that was really saying something.

“Dean,” Sam murmured and swallowed thickly as the scratching intensified and a low growl echoed from outside. “I... you’re so importan-”

Sam’s words were cut off with the shattering of wood and instinctively Sam swung toward the door, nearly throwing himself in front of Dean. He saw the flash of dark fur and something sliced into his skin, sending pain rippling through his body in a horrible wave. Sam’s lips parted and the scream that echoed around him was hauntingly familiar. Right up there with the flash of green eyes he caught before his vision had blurred dangerously.

And, _oh god_. He’d been wrong. So wrong. It had never been about Dean. He’d never seen Dean die because Dean wasn’t the one meant to die. Sam should have figured the pieces out a long time ago, there was no logic behind having vision-dreams of his brother when he hadn’t even known his brother existed.

It was _Sam_.

“Sammy!” Dean yelled and the sounds of a gun firing, the grunt of the man as he moved, filled the sudden darkness after the crash of glass - the breaking of the lamp. “Fuck. Sam? Sammy! Answer me damnit!”

Sam sucked in a gasp and pressed his hand over his side where the ache was strongest. It burned worse than anything he’d ever felt and Sam could feel the heat of something slick, blood, gushing from his body. “Dean,” he hissed, eyes fluttering open and closed as he fought against the pull of unconsciousness.

“Sammy, it’s dead. It’s over. Just hang in there okay? I’m gonna look after you. You’re fine. You’re fine now, okay? Sam? Come on.”

Dean’s pleas were barely breaking through the haze of Sam’s. The world around him tilted unpleasantly so Sam gave in and closed his eyes. He wasn’t prepared to die, wasn’t ready to let this life go, and he should have been smarter, put the pieces together sooner. Sam wasn’t ready to lose Dean.

  


Everything was fuzzy and blurry and white. Sam was pretty sure he hadn’t earned a ticket to Heaven so the white didn’t really make sense. After all, people who let their brothers fuck them, well, that didn’t seem like the type of thing to usher you swiftly through the pearly gates.

“Sammy?”

Oh. Dean.

“Thank god,” Sam groaned - ironically - and let his head flop to the side so he could blink his eyes open and fix his gaze on his brother. He managed a weak smile through the apparent drug haze. A hospital, that was where they were, and Sam was not dead. “M’alive.”

Dean laughed softly and slid a little close, brushing fingers over Sam’s brow. “Yeah you are. All thanks to me. You can repay me later in sexual favors.”

Sam tried to laugh but it caused his side to ache and he hissed instead, face scrunching up in pain. “What happened?”

“Take it easy, okay?” Dean sighed and slid out of his chair, dropping onto the edge of the bed beside him. “Got torn up pretty bad.”

Sam considered their shared concern about the attacking creature being a werewolf and his eyes widened, hands twitching out to his side to try and grab at the sheet and pull down to see his wound. “Fuck, did I get bit? I’m not gonna turn into a-”

“Dude, Sam, chill out.” Instantly Dean was reaching out, smoothing hands down. “It wasn’t what we thought it was okay? And you weren’t bitten, just scratched pretty bad. You’re gonna be fine as long as you don’t do something stupid and pull your stitches or something.”

Collapsing back on the bed, Sam blew out a shaky breath and took a moment to look around the hospital room. He was alive, which was probably a miracle, and kind of reassured everything he’d been working toward his whole life. He could change the horrible futures he saw, even if he sometimes got the pieces wrong. “Do you know what it was?”

“Haven’t had a chance to research it yet, been here waiting for you to wake up. The cops are calling it an animal attack but without a body...” Dean shrugged and trailed his fingers down Sam’s arm. “I was at the motel long enough to make sure they didn’t see the weapons and give my statement. Then here.”

“Where’s the body?” Sam’s eyes skittered to the hospital door but they seemed alone for now so he focused on Dean’s touch instead.

Dean pursed his lips and idly linked his fingers through Sam’s. “It wasn’t as dead as I thought it was. But, it couldn’t have made it far, not the way I pumped it full of bullets.”

“It got _away_?” Sam squeaked, his eyes widening. “But, god, Dean. That thing wanted me dead! I was wrong about my visions, it was me. That’s why I’ve been dreaming about it my whole life, it was _me_.”

“Shh, Sammy, I know, I figured that.” Dean twisted around to lay beside Sam, rubbing over his chest. “Calm the hell down before you get me kicked out for working you up. Listen to me, I’ve already worked this all out. If we didn’t stop it for good, don’t you think you’ll have the dreams again? We’ll be prepared this time. For real. And I will kill any thing or one that tries to hurt you, got it?”

Dean’s touch was soothing and strong and Sam instantly relaxed, completely reassured in a way he still hadn’t gotten used to. Dean was amazing like that. Sam couldn’t imagine a life without him any longer. “You know... if I’m supposed to calm down, you’re not really helping.”

Unsurprisingly, Dean laughed and dipped in to press his lips softly to Sam’s neck. “Oh I’m sorry, should I move?”

Pressing just a little closer, Sam shook his head and closed his eyes. “No, please don’t.”

So they didn’t have everything figured out - and Sam was starting to get the feeling they never would - but they had each other. And that was more than Sam had ever had before. That was enough.

-End  



End file.
